


Windows to the Soul

by screamingarrows



Series: The Hero Never Wins [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:26:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingarrows/pseuds/screamingarrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But if you close your eyes does it can almost feel like nothing’s changed at all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windows to the Soul

The Sheriff’s back is to the door when he hears it slide open. He rubs a hand over his mouth in frustration, his eyes flicker across the board in front of him. It’s the exact replica of the board in his son’s room and it just doesn't make  _sense_. The red strings connect seemingly unrelated pictures and the scissors that connected it all together… Sheriff Stilinski frowns.

"Parrish, just set the files down," the Sheriff says. For the past few days Parrish is the only deputy who will even attempt to work with him and risk his current short temper. He turns and his heart jumps at the sight before him.

It’s Stiles. Or not-Stiles. Derek had talked to him about this and the Sheriff had found it hard to believe; until now. He doesn’t think he’d ever seen his son’s eyes look so dead. Not even after Claudia’s funeral.

"Dad?" The thing asks. It’s voice soft and the Sheriff almost steps toward it, but it’s eyes were a clear indicator that it wasn’t his son speaking.

"Let him go." The Sheriff’s voice comes out hard and he moves a hand to his hip, resting on his holstered gun. The thing controlling Stiles smiles wickedly and glances into the hall. It’s then that Sheriff Stilinski realizes how  _quiet_ it is in the rooms outside of his office.

When the thing turns and slowly pulls the door shut, the Sheriff unclips his gun and points it at Stiles’ back. The thing hears the safety click off and looks over Stiles’ shoulder with a twisted grin.

"Are you going to shoot me, Sheriff? Are you going to shoot  _him_?” It laughs while it turns around. Stiles’ laughs were always full of warmth, full of love. This laugh is everything but that; it sends a shiver down the Sheriff’s spine and fear settles in his chest. “No, no I bet it’s taking everything you have to even hold the gun steady.”  

"I want my son back," Sheriff Stilinski barely keeps his voice even. The thing hums happily and crosses Stiles’ arms.

"That seems to be a popular consensus."

"Look," the Sheriff says shakily. He lowers his gun and sets it on his desk, raising his hands peacefully in front of him. "I’m willing to- to negotiate. You-you can have me, alright. Just, let him go. He’s just a boy."

"Mmm," the thing hums thoughtfully, an easy smile playing at Stiles’ lips. "But he’s not  _just_  a boy, is he Sheriff?”

The Sheriff frowns.

"Oh! They didn’t tell you! This is  _beautiful_ ,” the thing says happily, bouncing a little on Stiles’ feet. It’s a familiar move that Stiles had done since he first could sit up by himself and the act makes a knot form deep in Sheriff Stilinski’s throat.

"He’s a  _spark_. You know, magic. Witchcraft. Sorcery.” The thing snorts and the Sheriff can feel his heart thudding in his chest. How could they have kept this a secret? Stiles wasn’t on the board! He-he can’t be on the board.

“ _But_ ,” the thing draws the word out, “I’m reasonable. Since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can let you see him.” The thing lunged across the room and grabbed the Sheriff’s discarded gun. The Sheriff was a second too late and straightens with his hands up with the gun pointing at him.

"One." The thing cocks the gun.

"Last." The thing closes one eye and takes aim.

"Time." There is a searing pain in his stomach and then the sound of the gunshot reaches his ears. Time slows, the Sheriff looks up and sees Stiles’ mouth open in a pleased smile.

And then he falls. His hands instantly push against the wound on his abdomen. The blood flows quickly through his fingers and he huffs through the pain. He looks up and the thing has Stiles’ face turned into a frown. It crouches next to him and rests a hand on the wound, dips his fingers in the blood and squishes it in his fist.

"D-did you," the Sheriff pauses to get his breath. "Did you-"

"Shh," the thing shushes. "Don’t worry. I shot the sheriff but I didn’t shoot the deputies." It grins and it’s such a Stiles thing to say, it has tears pooling in the Sheriff’s eyes.

"Let me- let me see," the Sheriff pants. The thing pushes one of Stiles’ long fingers into the bullet hole and the Sheriff groans, choking back a scream.

And then just as soon as it starts, it stops. The Sheriff opens his eyes and looks up into Stiles’ face.

Tears are falling from Stiles’ eyes and he’s gasping around a sob. The Sheriff immediately knows it’s his son. Stiles’ hands are shaking; he pulls them up toward his face and whimpers before rubbing them frantically on his shirt, trying to rid his skin of the red stains.

"Dad. Dad what did I-? Oh God.  _Oh God_!”

"Shh, Stiles it’s not your fault," Sheriff Stilinski rasps out. He reaches up and grabs Stiles’ hand. The blood coating both of them makes their grip slippery but it seems to settle Stiles. He takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut.

"It is," Stiles argues weakly. "It is my fault but- but I can fix this." Stiles opens his eyes and looks up. "I can fix this," he whispers to himself. He looks around the room and spots his dad’s office phone. He squeezes his dads hand once before reaching for the phone. His fingers just graze the black plastic when he feels himself viciously ripped back and the Nogitsune takes his place.

"Oh no no no," the Nogitsune says and the Sheriff looks turns, gasping as the movement pulls at his wound. "I’m doing you a favor, Sheriff. You better rail in your son."

The thing throws Stiles’ body to the ground and when it looks up, Stiles is back. More tears fall down his cheek and he looks at the floor as a sob wracks through his body.

"Stiles, come… here…" The words are hard to force out, the blood loss is making it hard to focus. Stiles glances up and whimpers, a whine leaving his throat before he had a chance to stop it.

"I- I can fix this," Stiles says, voice breathless and tone desperate.

"No, Stiles, don’t-" the Sheriff says as Stiles lunges for the phone and knocks it off the desk. The thing takes over and tisks.

"Oh isn’t this  _delicious_?” The thing asks with a toothy smile. “Best meal I’ve had in  _ages_.”

The Sheriff doesn’t understand, but when Stiles is thrown back down and it’s  _his_  Stiles, the Sheriff doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around Stiles and pulls him to his chest. He breathes shakily through the pain but doesn’t let his son go.

"I love you, Stiles. Do you understand? This- none of this is your fault." Stiles squeezes him and burrows his face in the Sheriff’s neck.

"I’m sorry," the Sheriff can feel Stiles’ muffled cries against his neck. "I’m sorry, Dad."

"It’s okay, Stiles. It’s okay, son." The Sheriff closes his eyes and his fingers dig into Stiles’ sides. "I love you. I love you."

The Sheriff keeps whispering the words until his arms are heavy and he feels cold all over. He keeps whispering until his tongue feels swollen and his words are slurred. He whispers until he can’t anymore.

The last thing Stiles hears is his father whispering his name.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I'm really proud of this one! Hopefully y'all loved it just as much as I loved to write it:) Let me know what you think!


End file.
